Below the Winds
by Lady-of-the-Refrigerator
Summary: Between the lines of Season 3A, Red and Lizzy are closer than they appear. [Episode related, non-chronological, Lizzington, 7/7, COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

Lizzy had been quiet beside Red for a long while before he felt her hand settle on his shoulder. In the stillness of the theatre, he could hear her breathing, could tell she hadn't yet drifted off to sleep, but when she touched him, the heat from her hand still seared his flesh through the thin material of his shirt. It was all he could do not to react to her, to lean in to her touch.

Not reacting was a moot point at any rate. Lizzy knew he wasn't sleeping just as well as he knew she wasn't. Whether she had known when she first climbed into bed next to him or she only realized it after she felt how still he held himself, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter when she noticed, only that she knew.

Red wondered what she made of his continued silence.

She kept her hand on his shoulder and waited, waited for him to acknowledge it, acknowledge her. She was giving him a chance to avoid whatever it was she wanted to say. Considerate of her, to be sure, but she knew him well enough by now to realize he was much too masochistic for that.

"Lizzy?"

"Yeah?" she said, spoken like a question as if she hadn't been the one who initiated the contact in the first place. Her grip tightened infinitesimally, but she still didn't explain herself. Curious, that.

"What's the matter?" he prompted. Because something certainly was. Lizzy didn't hem and haw where he was concerned; she'd never been afraid to confront him, to challenge him about damn near anything.

She shifted a bit closer then and her next words brought with them the warm tickle of her breath at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "About earlier."

Tom. She was sorry about Tom. Why did it always have to be Tom? In a life filled with regrets, Red thought it was possible hiring that man ranked quite close to his biggest one.

"It's fine," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not fine." A small hesitation and then, "Are we OK?"

"Of course we're OK," Red said, and he meant it. As much as he hated it, he understood how difficult it was to let go; he understood better than he wanted to. He couldn't hold that against Lizzy. Especially when he knew she never would have crossed paths with the bastard if not for him.

She still hadn't removed her hand from his shoulder; the point of contact drew every last ounce of Red's focus. Her thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth, rhythmic as a ticking clock, the beating of his heart. His traitorous body knew exactly what to expect from this, and responded accordingly, flushing with the heat of anticipation.

"Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn around?"

Red took a measured breath.

It was only practical, really. They had to be up bright and early the next morning for her meeting with The Djinn and they'd need adequate rest if they wanted to be at the top of their game. It was more than likely they would both lie awake for hours if they didn't… indulge each other this way.

He closed his eyes, counted to ten.

Excuses. Justifications. Rationalizations.

Nothing changed the fact that they needed to stop doing this, and the sooner they stopped, the easier it would be later.

There was, however, a problem with that simple truth. Now that they had stepped across that old, eroding line in the sand—obliterated it, to be quite honest—neither of them wanted to try to redraw it. The temptation to continue down this path was strong enough just spending so much time together, but here on this stage amidst the trappings of an ersatz home, it was damn near irresistible.

So of course Red did as Lizzy asked and rolled over to face her.

What little light there was in the old theatre reflected in her eyes, highlighted the furrow in her brow, the guilty set of her mouth.

"What is it, Lizzy?" he asked, even though he already knew.

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, to run her fingers over his cheekbone, his sideburn, the curve of his ear. She searched his eyes in the darkness, gauging his reactions to her touch.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, in a whisper. "I know what it must've felt like when I… I didn't mean to imply that I didn't… that I don't…"

He nodded under her hand. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Lizzy's eyes dropped then, as they so often did, and her expression shifted into that longing, pensive gaze he knew all too well. Now that the line between them had disappeared, her actions could finally match her thoughts; she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers.

Red's chest tightened as their lips began to move together—the sweetest pain he ever felt, no matter how many times he felt it. He wanted Lizzy so _desperately_ , every second of every day he spent with her, no matter how much he tried to quash that want. Each time he took her into his arms he wanted her even more, despite the ever-present knowledge that it was temporary and a terrible, terrible idea.

This couldn't last forever. Once Lizzy was exonerated, it would end. It had to. They both knew it.

At least Red hoped she did.

This thing between them, it was unsustainable with his enemies looming over his life. It was simply too dangerous. Perhaps in another place, another time, things could be different, but the current climate made it impossible. To him, that was more than obvious; it was an unfortunate fact of life.

He'd lived with the threat of his imminent destruction hanging over his head for so long, it was difficult to imagine any alternative.

For her? Definitely. For himself? Hardly.

Here, however? Alone together, on the run, with his only objectives securing Lizzy's safety and freedom? Well, exceptions could be made.

For companionship.

For comfort.

To find the peace below the winds.

They'd fallen into an easy rhythm by this point, one that hadn't taken them long to find. He was a generous lover and she was a responsive one.

Some nights, Lizzy would be more than happy for the two of them to explore each other, to spend hours chasing away fear and boredom and loneliness. Other nights, her eager impatience took him by surprise.

Intellectually, he knew she was attracted to him—had known for quite some time—but he'd been wholly unprepared for just how strong that attraction was. In fact, the first time she had… Well, that was a story for another day. Judging by the look in her eye tonight, this would be one of the impatient nights and he didn't want to keep her waiting.

Lizzy rolled onto her back and pulled Red with her, immediately tugging his t-shirt from his trousers and sliding it up and off his torso. She made quick work of his fly next, and dipped her hand inside his boxers as soon as she could; he moaned into her mouth when her hand closed around him, the contact brief and teasing before she started pushing his trousers and boxers down his legs.

Red broke their kiss and helped her, then took a moment to collect himself, resting in the cradle of her thighs. She had already rid herself of her jeans before climbing into bed, so it would only be a matter of helping her shimmy out of her boyshorts and shuck her shirt over her head before they were skin to skin.

It was a shame it would be over so quickly. Red liked to savor every encounter with Lizzy, store them up in his memory for the inevitable day in the not-so-distant future when they were no longer together. The taste of her, the curve and weight of her breast against his palm as her chest heaved with her ragged breathing, the feeling of her thigh muscles clenching and tightening against his ears as her fingernails pricked at his scalp… In his mind's eye he saw it all, everything he would do if he had all the time in the world with her.

Lizzy ran her fingers up the back of Red's neck, drawing a spark of electricity up his spine and his attention back to her face. "Next time," she said, and he nodded, reaching for the waistband of her underwear as she crossed her arms, grasped the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it off.

Red found Lizzy slick and needy in her arousal; she arched into his touch, rocking against his fingers, more than ready for him despite how quickly they had arrived at this point. He was forever in awe at the beauty of her body, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh…

He eased himself inside her and began moving with gentle, shallow thrusts as he waited for her to adjust to him; when she pressed her hands firmly against his chest, he froze and searched her face for any signs of distress.

"Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "Pillow," she said, wrenching the extra pillow from under her head; he helped her position it beneath her hips. "All right. I'm good now, keep going."

He slowly pressed back inside and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Then she tightened her muscles around him experimentally, and he bit down hard on his own lip, deep enough for blood to well up in the mark.

"Better?" he gasped.

"Yeah. Perfect," she said, and captured his mouth, sucking at the tender spot he'd just created. She licked and teased the tiny wound and he moaned, thrusting just a little deeper, a little harder.

Sometimes… Sometimes, Lizzy understood him too well.

The combination of the new angle and the roughness proved to be exactly what Lizzy needed, much sooner than even Red could have predicted. Before he knew it, she began to flutter and clench around him, threatening to make him lose control of himself, which could be disastrous.

" _Lizzy_ ," he growled in warning before the sensations could get the better of him; she quickly caught on, snaking her hand down between their bodies to bring herself off while he pulled out and, with a few quick strokes, finished in his hand.

A dark thought flitted across Red's mind as he rummaged around in the bed sheets for his discarded boxers so he could clean himself off—forensics would have a field day if the task force ever found this little hideaway. Yet another hazard to add to his growing mental list.

Task completed, Red let himself collapse against Lizzy's chest, aided by her guiding hands.

"We should…" She swallowed hard and breathed deep through her nose, still on the edge of panting. "Next time we're out, we should buy something. Just once, I'd like to feel it when you…"

"All right," he said. "All right, we will."

Once he caught his breath, Red pushed himself up on arms still shaky and trembling from exertion and made to move back to his side of the bed. Lizzy stopped him with a touch and a plea.

"Stay. You're not too heavy for me."

He nodded and settled again against her chest, letting his mind drift as she combed her fingernails through the short hair on the side of his head, over and over and over, until she began to drift off as well.

They'd sleep now. Both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

When Red led Lizzy out of his shipping container sanctuary to show her Polaris, he did so without any expectations. He had wanted to reassure her there was someone in the world who still knew who she really was, still saw her as decent and good and not at all monstrous. In his own experience, a little reassurance could go a long way, especially when your life was spinning out of your control.

They'd both been so melancholy, so lonesome on that breezy, moonlit night, and the stars had been so beautiful. It was the perfect atmosphere for sharing good pie, good brandy, private thoughts, and long dead hopes and dreams.

A heady rush of exhilaration filled Red even as he struggled and stumbled around to find the right words to say what he wanted to say to Lizzy, and he knew he probably ended up overshooting his simple goal by quite a bit. Perhaps overwhelmingly so, no matter how true his admission was. He was so nervous about her reaction that he couldn't even look at her when he told her how he felt and he certainly couldn't look at her afterwards, for fear of what he would see in her eyes.

Confusion he would've understood, he was used to offense, and wariness, too. Pity, however… If Red had found pity in Lizzy's eyes that night, it might've broken his heart. He couldn't stand the idea that she might think of him as a foolish old man pining after something he could never have; the fear taunted him from the deep recesses of his own mind often enough without her confirmation of it.

Despite his concerns, Lizzy hadn't seemed at all put off by what he said. The salty sea air charged the atmosphere between them, changed it so quickly and fluidly, Red couldn't pinpoint the exact moment of the shift no matter how hard he tried. And try he did, studying her sleeping silhouette next to him late at night for weeks to come, wondering what the tipping point must have been.

Because when he finally looked down from the starry sky, Lizzy had taken him by surprise with a kiss; he was powerless to do anything but return it, his mind wiped clean by the feeling of her lips on his.

In that moment, Red had been at a complete loss as to what to do with himself—he truly never expected to find himself in her arms quite that way. Fortunately, Lizzy had the presence of mind to guide them back towards the sofa before his knees began to buckle. He sat reflexively as soon as his calves hit the edge of the cushions and she followed him down, sitting with one leg tucked beneath her so she could face him and continue their kiss.

Her restless hands moved ceaselessly over his shoulders, down his arms, up his neck—everywhere and nowhere, all at once. His hands rested at her waist, where her light blouse thankfully did little to dampen the grounding warmth of her skin.

Lizzy was kissing him. Thoroughly, passionately kissing him. He needed all the reminders he could grasp hold of to keep him in the moment and prove that it was really happening. Not even his wildest dreams could hold a candle to this sudden new reality.

Red had no idea how much time passed before she pulled back—far enough only to speak, to examine his face. He must have looked quite kiss-drunk when she did, though. Concern furrowed her brow, pulled down at the corners of her mouth.

"Are you OK?" she asked, still slightly breathless. "I don't think we've had that much brandy, but if—"

"Lizzy," he interrupted, his serious tone belied by the giddy grin tugging at his lips. He caught hold of her fidgety hands and rubbed his thumbs over the backs of them. "Relax. It's not the brandy."

"It's not?"

"No, it's not." On impulse, he brought one of her hands to his mouth and brushed a kiss against it. Her cheeks dimpled and warmed, the flush spreading down her neck to disappear under her blouse.

"No one's ever reacted like that when I've kissed them before," she said, almost bashful in her incredulity.

"No? Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I did?"

"It's a good thing." She leaned in then, her lips almost touching his when she spoke. "I didn't think it was really possible to make a man go weak in the knees."

"Oh, believe me, it's quite possible," he said, sliding a gentle hand up to cradle the back of her neck, and closed the distance between them again. He angled his head and parted his lips in an invitation to deepen the kiss, which she did without any hesitation. His free hand settled on her thigh; he felt her muscles tensing and releasing under his fingers, still restless.

Soon, she broke the kiss and knelt up on the cushion, braced herself with a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on…" she said, "can I… just…"

"Yeah, closer—closer's fine," he said, feeling a little lightheaded as she twisted her body, pressing him back into the couch so she could slide herself onto his lap; he helped guide her to sit astride him comfortably, steadying her with his hands. Steadying himself.

"Like this?"

"Mmm," he murmured, and then they were kissing again.

Sensations filtered through Red's mind, one at a time. The weight of Lizzy's body against him, warm and enticing. The tingling pressure of her fingernails tracing patterns in the short-cropped hair on the back of his head. The humidity of her breath as she blazed a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his jawline to his ear, where she took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged at it gently, adding more and more pressure to match the noises of approval rumbling through his chest.

He felt himself growing hard beneath her and she felt it, too, pressed as tightly together as they were; she inhaled sharply at his ear and pulled back to lock eyes with him. Her heated gaze burned a path down his nerve endings to the base of his spine, moving his hips up of their own volition. Her eyes widened, pupils growing impossibly large and dilated. Very deliberately, she ground her hips against him in return, drawing a groan out of them both.

The record stopped playing. The sudden silence only served to emphasize the volume of their ragged breathing and the wind whipping past the big steel doors they had left open in their haste.

Red cleared his throat. "I should… I should shut those."

"Yeah. That's a good idea." They disentangled themselves unhurriedly; carefully, and with obvious reluctance, Lizzy eased herself off his lap.

The sound of rushing blood filled Red's ears as he stood, and the weight of Lizzy's gaze felt heavy on his back. He was hyper-aware of how unsteady he was on his feet, how his passion-fogged brain had slowed down to a crawl. It was a wonder he even managed to punch the right code in on the keypad; his fingers moved by sheer muscle memory alone. By the time he reached the record player, even that abandoned him completely, leaving him stranded in front of the modest collection of records without a single conscious thought to help him pick a new one to play.

"Raymond," Lizzy said, her voice breaking through the haze; a shiver ran through Red's entire body at the sound of it.

Good Lord, his first name on her lips…

He thought he would be forever relegated to 'Reddington' in her eyes, _maybe_ 'Red' if he was lucky, with the occasional derisive 'Raymond Reddington' thrown in when they were in front of his peers while she pretended to be someone else—a wronged acquaintance, a disgruntled associate, a spurned lover. He never thought he'd live to see the day she'd call him Raymond when they were alone, in a quiet, intimate tone that spoke of familiarity and affection.

He turned, half afraid that everything would evaporate before his eyes, a heat mirage of wild fantasy.

But it didn't. There she was, still stretched out on the sofa, still looking at him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat.

"Forget about the music," she said; he nodded.

Slowly, Red crossed the small space and came to a stop at Lizzy's feet. He toyed with his vest, contemplating whether or not he should remove it. Judging by her expression and the way she bit her bottom lip, she very much thought that he should. Her mouth parted slightly while she tracked his fingers slipping each button from its hole; she moistened her lips with her tongue and air caught in his chest under the fabric.

Red shrugged out of the vest, folded it neatly, and set it on the coffee table. He knelt on the edge of the sofa, then painstakingly crawled his way over Lizzy until their faces were aligned, careful to avoid making her feel trapped or boxed in; he lowered himself into the cradle of her legs, bracing his weight on his forearms. They lay there in the quiet for a few long moments simply watching each other, the subtle trembling of her body matching his own.

They'd been this close to each other before, technically. Closer, even. More than once, he'd held her in his arms, whispered soothing words and pressed kisses in her hair, all in comfort. There was comfort in this, too, more so than he would've expected given how fiercely they'd come together. But comfort wasn't all it was. There was exploration in this closeness, a desire to discover new and untold secrets.

The contrast between this and their previous encounters, it… it shook him to his core. It was as if all the untapped potential that always sizzled just below the surface between them had finally been set free, igniting a slow-burning ember that could hit flashpoint at any moment.

Lizzy was the first to break their standstill when she reached out a shaky hand and smoothed it up his shirt-covered chest, and across his shoulder. Her gaze alone was a caress as it followed her inquisitive fingers, searching and seeking and studying. Her touch ghosted over the tattoo on his right arm through the thin material of his dress shirt. She could probably see it, he thought, as she bit down on her lip again.

Red watched with wonder as she turned her attention to his buttons and began to undo them.

 _One button, two buttons…_

By the third, the reality of their situation truly began to set in—Lizzy was undressing him. This was actually going to happen.

 _Four buttons…_

There would be no holding back. Not that night.

 _Five, six…_

She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, uncovering the thick, damaged skin on his back without so much as a flinch. ' _I remember everything_ ,' she had said, not so long ago. Did she remember that? Did it matter? Did anything matter other than her unabashed, unhesitating touch on his bare skin?

Lizzy stretched to leave lingering kisses on Red's chest, his collarbone, the hollow of his throat. His breathing hitched when she tasted him tentatively, then dragged her teeth along his skin.

"You know, I'm feeling a little overdressed here," she said, her voice pitched low and warm in her arousal. Red's answering chuckle died in his throat as she bit down gently on his earlobe once again. When he made no move for her clothing, she cupped a hand against his cheek to turn his head and pressed an amused kiss to his lips.

"That's your cue," she whispered.

"I realize that," he said, stalling for time, scrabbling around for some semblance of his usual verbosity. "Haven't you ever tried to savor the sweet sensation of anticipation? Like the exquisite excitement of unwrapping a gift on Christmas morning—carefully sliding your fingers under the seam to unstick the tape and slowly peeling back the paper, wondering all the while what secrets might be in store just underneath…"

Lizzy shook her head. "Not really. I was more the type to tear the paper to shreds so I could get at the present as quickly as possible." As she spoke, she snaked her hands down between their bodies to undo the fastenings on his pants; she slipped her hands under his waistband and squeezed his ass, the material of his boxers gripped tightly in her fingers.

"Delayed gratification isn't really my strong suit," she concluded, and rocked her hips up at the same time as she pulled Red down against her; he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

"Good God, Lizzy," he said, his voice slightly muffled by her skin. "I hope you realize this is coming perilously close to ending before it begins."

"And I hope you realize all this is gonna go to my head," she said; there was a peculiar edge to her tone that tugged at Red's curiosity. He pulled back to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

Lizzy shied away from his questioning gaze and focused on a point somewhere over his shoulder. "The way you're acting tonight, you'd think I was one of those women you're always waxing nostalgic about. 'Lizzy, I'd love you to meet my best game theorist, Dr. Something-or-Other. Did you know she won Miss Universe in 1993?'"

"It was 1991. And it wasn't Miss Universe, it was—"

"Oh, come on," she said, still keeping her eyes averted, "don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not playing dumb." She scoffed. "I'm not. Elizabeth. Please look at me," he coaxed; grudgingly, she lowered her head, but her gaze settled on his lips rather than his eyes. Oh, well. Close enough.

"I've been… fortunate enough to have spent time with a number of beautiful, fascinating women in my life, yes. But that doesn't make you any less beautiful or fascinating."

"Right, sure. And I guess you probably had to give all of them advice about which color was flattering for their skin tone, too."

He shrugged. "So color analysis isn't one of your strengths."

"And neither is cooking. Or anger management. Or impulse control."

"Lizzy…" Red pushed himself back and moved to sit at her feet. "I understand how destructive being on the run can be to your sense of self, but you've never really given me the impression that you felt… inadequate… around other women in my life before. Jealous, maybe, but… Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"

Lizzy sat up as well and shifted along the couch towards him, stopping only when she nearly pressed against his side. Red was relieved—whatever insecurities she might have, she didn't feel the need to put any distance between them. Still, she rubbed at the scar on her wrist as she sat there, staring off at middle distance; he put a cautious hand on her back to rub between her shoulder blades and she rested her head against his chest with a sigh.

Her hair was soft and ticklish against his skin. He swallowed hard.

"Maybe I don't feel inadequate, maybe that's the wrong word for it," she answered, after a while. "But with everything that's happened the past couple years, it's hard to take anything at face value. I mean, obviously you're attracted to me…"

Red gave an amused huff of a laugh. "What gave that away?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture at his own disheveled appearance—shirtless, trousers gaping, with a hard-on that was _still_ doing its damnedest to escape his boxer shorts.

"See, you joke about it, but I can never tell where I really stand with anybody anymore. I thought I could, but apparently I can't even trust my own instincts." She shook her head. "You were right when you said everything I'd come to believe about myself was a lie. God, everything— _everything_ —even my name.

"And I'm being hunted because of it, by the 'good guys', people I'm supposed to be able to trust—not to mention the bad guys. All of it because of some accident of birth. Everyone's formed this… skewed image of me. They're sure they know me because of who my parents were or because of your interest in me or the things I've done, without making any effort to learn who I really am. I mean, hell, when was the last time anyone was interested in me just because of… well… me?"

"I am."

Lizzy glanced up at him through her eyelashes. "Maybe you are. But even you wouldn't be here if not for my parents."

"That might've technically been true in the beginning, but—"

"Boy, you really don't sugarcoat things, do you?"

Red's brows furrowed. "Whatever anyone else might try to tell you, however real it might feel, I don't care about you just because of your mother or your father or The Fulcrum or any other insignificant thing. I promise you that.

"It's been a very long time since my interest in you has had anything to do with anything _other_ than you. Everything else—as complicated as it might be—is an afterthought now. If it's even that. Sometimes I wish…" He stopped himself, afraid of going too far in the heat of the moment, but he could tell he piqued Lizzy's curiosity.

"Sometimes you wish what?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Please. It matters to you, otherwise you wouldn't have said anything."

Red studied her face, dear to him now in ways he never could have guessed as he watched her walk towards him with a determination to spite her nerves that first day in FBI custody. He'd been infatuated with an idea that day, but she'd quickly made herself very real indeed, as swiftly as a pen could puncture an artery.

"You and I," he said, "we've done the best we can with the hands we've been dealt. We've adjusted. We've made do. You with your expectations of what your career would be, your hopes for a home and a family and your… husband. Me with my… disillusionment with the people I once pledged my loyalty to and the loss of any semblance of a normal life.

"I don't often wish I could have it again—a family, a home. I'm pragmatic enough to realize how unlikely it is in the life that I lead; I came to terms with that a long time ago. The way I see it, it's too little too late for me. But sometimes… when I'm with you…"

"You see your way home," she said, sounding so uncertain, it made his heart ache.

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure I know what that means."

Dare he say it plain? Dare he share his fanciful daydream? Once she knew, she'd know forever. The knowledge would always be there, floating in the back of her mind, coloring their interactions from that point on.

Red cleared his throat. The tightness in his chest made it almost impossible to speak, but still he tried. "The only time I ever wish I could have another chance at that kind of life is when I'm with you."

"Oh. That's a… That's a pretty bold statement to make," she said, and Red couldn't read her expression properly to save his life.

"If I've made you uncomfortable…" He retrieved his arm and attempted to put some space between them. She laid her palm on his thigh, stopping him.

"Geez, Red, no. I had my hands down your pants a few minutes ago—of course you don't make me _uncomfortable_. It's just…" She ducked her head, allowing the curtain of her hair to fall and obscure her face. "If you go around saying things like that, it's gonna make me think…" She trailed off and shook her head with a shrug.

"Think what?"

She glanced up at him before looking away again quickly, blinking to clear her watery eyes. "Things."

He huffed a laugh at her vagueness. Throw in a couple obscure anecdotes and she could give him a run for his money. "Good things or bad things?"

"Good things," she answered. "Things I'm not sure I can let myself believe. I _want_ to, don't get me wrong. But that hasn't worked out too well for me so far."

"Good things _will_ happen for you, Elizabeth. No matter how absurd it seems right now."

Reaching out, Red gently brushed Lizzy's hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes slid shut briefly as she leaned into his touch. He waited until her eyelids fluttered open again before he leaned forward, tentative and cautious, giving her ample time to pull away; instead, she met him in the middle, tipped her head up and sought his lips blindly.

Just when Red was beginning to lose himself once again in her mouth, Lizzy ran her hand down the center of his bare chest and worked it inside his boxers; he growled low in his throat when she wrapped her fingers around his length.

He broke the kiss to nuzzle her breasts through her thin, gauzy blouse, reveling in the noises she made and the feeling of her nipples tightening under the onslaught of his lips and tongue. Before long, she pushed him back into the couch cushions and pulled her top off over her head.

Red's mind stuttered to a stop as he took in her naked chest, only to be jump-started by her sliding her pants down her legs. Quickly, he followed suit, and then followed her as she lay back on the sofa.

Linking her arms around the back of his neck, she looked up to meet his eyes and nodded. He reached down to position himself; they both gasped as he pressed inside her, her slickness enveloping him in a stretching, squeezing heat. They kissed again, deeply, slowly, as they moved with each other even more slowly, basking in the sensations they stirred in one another.

Despite their best efforts to prolong the experience, they soon found themselves on the edge, forced to pull away from each other in an improvised precaution lest they have any surprises in the future. It was hasty and fallible, but it was all that they had, caught up in the moment out at sea under the starlit sky.

Only a few hours later, Red woke to a renewed sense of purpose and the feeling of Lizzy's naked breasts pressed against his back, blunted by the scar tissue there.


	3. Chapter 3a

The road trip back east after investigating Verdiant Industries was hardly as pleasant as the trip west had been, not the least because Red and Lizzy were responsible for all the driving themselves, with nothing more diverting than sound of their own voices or a wonky car radio to keep their demons at bay. It was a far cry from the eighteen-odd hours they'd spent together in that shipping container on the way to Iowa, which had been…

Well.

It had been a moment out of time, hadn't it?

They were about twenty minutes from pulling off the highway and trying to find a private, hidden place to take turns napping when they stumbled across a trendy little tourist trap in Middle of Nowhere, Ohio. It was some sort of a cross between a bed and breakfast and a motel—very industrial-looking, furnished with decor that had been purposely worn and distressed. The place would've almost been charming if it weren't so… artificial. Still, it was a hell of a lot more inviting than spending the night in the car.

Truth be told, the car might've been a safer prospect in the long run; the more people they interacted with, the higher the risk of being recognized. But it was late, they were both exhausted and they could certainly pass for a pair of bedraggled, beleaguered travelers, if only until they both got a few precious hours of sleep.

Red hesitated a moment with his hand on the door handle, the faux-aged metal standing out all the more under the jarring cold glow of the LED bulbs in the quirky, mismatched light fixtures flanking the entrance. He exchanged a quick glance with Lizzy; she gave him a weak smile and a small nod in return. He pulled open the door.

"Brother, you are a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you," Red exclaimed, as he stepped up to the front desk. His enthusiasm was part subterfuge, designed to distract and disarm the poor employee assigned to man the desk during the thankless night shift, and part authentic gratitude. Lizzy's mood had faded as fast as the setting sun while they drove and Red couldn't help but worry that his reassurances alone wouldn't be enough to stave off a panic attack, or worse.

He knew that when her mind drifted, it often wandered to the fate of the man she shot in the bar, to the hatred of her country bearing down on her, to her ex-colleagues who seemed more than willing to throw out years worth of trust in the face of her alleged crimes.

Even the brief semblance of normality that sleeping in a real bed could bring might do her a world of good. Faced with an opportunity to offer her such a simple comfort, how could Red pass it up?

He was discovering that a great many things were worth the risk with Lizzy's company.

"Kenneth, look, they have a gift shop!" Lizzy said, slipping into her role like it was a comfortable old sweater despite her exhaustion. She wandered over to the french doors that separated the gift shop from the lobby and frowned at the small placard stuck to one of the glass panes. "Oh no, it closed at nine."

"I can open it up for you two, if you'd like," offered the man behind the desk.

Red squinted down at his name tag. "That's very kind of you, Michael, but it's really not necessary. We don't want to put you out more than we already are."

"Don't worry about it."

Michael unlocked the doors and pushed them open, flicking the light switch and gesturing for Lizzy to explore to her heart's content. She shot him a brilliant smile—dimples out in full force—and thanked him. Some of the guilt and self-doubt had left her eyes, even behind the mask she wore for the other man's benefit. A hint of her usual spark was there, the thrill of the game refreshing her; Red had to shake himself to stay focused on the matter at hand.

" _Please_ tell me you have a vacancy," Red begged Michael as he made his way back to the desk, laying it on thick.

"Sure do. What kind of room're you looking for?"

"Hell, after the day we've had, I think we deserve to splurge a little. What do you say, sweetheart?" Lizzy looked up from a display of tourist brochures to smile and nod her assent. Red turned his attention back to the front desk and said, "All right, Michael, you heard the lady. Give us the best you've got."

Michael typed away at his keyboard. "So what brings you folks out here in the middle of the night?"

"Hmm? Oh. We were _supposed_ to have a three hour layover in… God, where was it? I don't even remember anymore." Red heaved a long-suffering sigh and launched into a convoluted tale of woe and misfortune and airline computer glitches, with Lizzy interjecting her own little embellishments here and there.

They painted a picture of partnership that could weather any storm, no matter how absurd. The story they spun began to feel startlingly real, as real as the ease with which they improvised it. It was a marvel, really, how smoothly their relationship could shift, how easily they could adapt to whatever they needed to be for each new situation. For each other.

Through it all, Red could feel the devil on his shoulder poking and prodding at his conscience, taunting him for finding any enjoyment at all in their current predicament.

 _It's only temporary_ , it argued. _None of it is real._

Red pushed his doubts aside, buried them hastily beneath layers of practicality and necessity. Their arrangement might be temporary, but temporary wasn't synonymous with false. His guilt and regret could wait for another day, once Lizzy was safe and free.

"Anyway, we foolishly thought we'd make it if we just kept driving through the night, but we've seen the error of our ways. You never realize just how damn big this country is until you try to drive across it." Red shrugged his shoulders and smiled self-deprecatingly. "Hey, that's what we get for trying to be spontaneous."

Michael slid the receipt across the desk and handed Red a pen.

"You're a lucky man," he said sotto voce. At Red's furrowed brow, he nodded surreptitiously towards Lizzy, who was still perusing the shelves in the gift shop. "You should see how she looks at you when you're not watching."

Red chewed on the inside of lip, quickly losing a battle with his better instincts. "How does she look at me?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, that smile of hers? You gotta know she's totally enamored of you."

"You think?"

Michael chuckled. "Trust me, man. I've got eyes."

Soon enough, Lizzy walked over to join Red at the front desk carrying a pair of matching souvenir mugs. She leaned on the counter and hooked her arm around his elbow. Casually, like she did it every day. The utter domesticity of it cut Red to the quick.

She _had_ smiled more freely around him since they'd been together, touched him more freely. Even without the excuse of a cover identity. That had to be a good thing, right? The number of times she'd touched him that day alone would've been unheard of a year ago. Hell, it would've been unheard of a month ago.

He could so easily see the two of them sitting in a breakfast nook somewhere, sharing a pot of coffee with her new mugs, reading the morning paper, and—if it was her turn to make breakfast—slightly overcooked eggs and bacon.

Maybe his silly daydream would happen one of these days, or at least something like it. Red couldn't tell if it would make everything easier or harder in the long run if it did.


	4. Chapter 3b

Lizzy was freshening up in the bathroom; Red could hear the water running, and smell the faint scent of bath products wafting out under the door on humid air.

Michael had given them the honeymoon suite. Such as it was, at least. Red couldn't decide whether he would have felt less off-kilter if it had happened before they'd been intimate.

Perhaps so. Perhaps not. Maybe it would have been more casual then, like when they changed clothes in the back of the van. Just a practical thing, rather than… what it could be now.

He'd been standing in front of the window by the door for a long while, staring out into the parking lot through the sheer curtains. They were far enough away from the main building that they'd at least have some kind of head start if the authorities came knocking. Not much peace of mind, to be sure, but it was better than none at all.

He should get undressed, get in bed. An unusual self-consciousness had taken root in the pit of his stomach and threatened his composure, but if he acted like this was normal, maybe he would stop being so aware of how aware _Lizzy_ was of _him_.

"Hey, Red?" came Lizzy's voice, indistinct as if from a distance. "Earth to Red, hello?"

Sluggishly, Red glanced back over his shoulder to find her standing just outside the bathroom. She looked lovely, tired as she was, with her skin scrubbed pink and the wisps of blonde hair framing her face dark and damp from the water; she was wearing one of his undershirts again.

"Hmm?"

"You doing OK?"

"Just tired," he said quietly, with a half-smile. "Don't worry about me. "

She gave him a look that made him feel like his reassurance had fallen on deaf ears, but she played along nonetheless. "You gonna shower?"

He shook his head. "I'd rather sleep. Chances are we'll only be safe here long enough for dear Michael at the front desk to catch the morning news."

With one last perusal of the parking lot, Red took a fortifying breath and undid his trousers. He stepped out of them and draped them over the arm of the chair by the window, then sat on the edge of the bed and bent to pull off his socks. Lizzy's attention felt warm on the back of his neck.

Before long, the bed shifted under her weight.

"I wonder what he'll say."

"What do you mean?"

"If they catch up to us. I wonder what he'll say to the cops. Or, who knows, maybe even Ressler."

Red twisted and settled himself against the pillows next to Lizzy. She had a faraway look in her eye, and she was rubbing surreptitiously at the scar on her wrist. He frowned; that was a dangerous road to travel, there. What he needed to do was keep her talking, keep her in the moment, so she didn't get lost in the depths of her own mind.

And perhaps he wouldn't get lost in the depths of his, either.

"'Criminals? _Terrorists?_ Oh, but that's impossible!" he said, in a passable imitation of Michael's voice. "I mean, it sure looks like them, but they seemed like such a nice, normal couple. You know. Just another average middle-aged man with a girlfriend who's _way_ out of his league.'"

"Out of your league? Please," she scoffed; her ears, however, had gone red. "As if anyone's out of your league."

"You'd be surprised. Besides, it doesn't matter if it's true or not. What matters is people's perceptions. There are certain conclusions people jump to when they see us together and, trust me, not all of them are very flattering. To either of us. And I guarantee you some people take one look at us and think you're out of my league."

"Or they think I'm your daughter."

"God, don't remind me," he said, with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes; he sobered quickly when faced with her expression, still wan and troubled. He shifted onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow.

Red laid his free hand gently on her bare forearm, caressing her with his thumb. "The fact that no one regularly goes out of their way to show you how desirable you are is a travesty, Lizzy."

"Well, you haven't exactly filled me with a lot of self-confidence in that department either. Until _very_ recently." At his bemused look, she explained, "Even the other day when I dyed my hair, you—"

"Ah."

"You complimented a total stranger's hair rather than mine, Red," she said, eyes locked with his. "And when I confronted you about looking like my mother, you didn't deny it."

Red chewed on the inside of his lip. "I… apologize… that sometimes when I'm around you, I devolve into a tongue-tied teenage boy on his first date, who has no idea how to verbalize the emotions coursing through him."

Lizzy blinked in surprise. "OK, I'm not gonna lie, that's an adorable mental image."

He smiled tightly. "I'm glad the humiliating return of my awkward adolescent self could provide you with so much amusement."

"Come on, you're hardly that kid anymore. You walk into a room and people's heads turn. I know you know it. You benefit from it—hell—your business depends on it."

"All that means is the facade I've built over the years is working. You've had a peek behind the curtain lately. Not many people have. At least not since I've had to rely on the bespoke suits and charm to make a first impression rather than boyish good looks and 80s teen heartthrob hair."

Lizzy snorted, glancing up at his hair, which decidedly did _not_ still match his description. "Oh, god, you're right. I've seen pictures. That's exactly what it was. I bet you had people swooning left and right."

"I swear I didn't! If anything, I had to work harder to be taken seriously—"

" _Relax_ , you don't have to get so defensive about it, I believe you. Besides." She reached up and brushed her fingertips over the close-cropped stubble on his scalp. "I prefer your hair like this."

After a few moments of silence, Lizzy gave Red a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Hey," she stage-whispered. "See how easy that was?"

"Point taken," Red said; he gathered up her hand in his. "My reaction to your hair had nothing to do with your mother, Lizzy. I hope somewhere deep down you already knew that."

Lizzy shrugged. "Knowing and believing are two different things," she said, turning to meet his gaze across the pillows again. "Maybe it's easier to believe it now."

Red smiled and brought her hand up to press a slow kiss to each of her knuckles. When he lowered it again, her face was much closer than it had been before; she leaned forward and kissed him—once almost tentatively and then again more assertively. His chest tightened.

Oh, how easy it was to lose himself in her arms! It had been far too long since he allowed himself to appreciate kissing for kissing's sake, and kissing _Lizzy_ , well… Once again, he found himself more closely resembling that nervous boy he'd described than the haunted, dangerous man he'd become.

Leisurely, Lizzy pulled back; a slow, tired smile curved her lips. "This is… nice."

"It is."

"It feels wrong to think that. Like I should be miserable after what I've done."

"You learn to take whatever joy you can find when you're on the run."

"Thank you. For being here with me. There's no way I would've made it this far without you."

"It's the least I could do, Lizzy. You deserve so much more than this."

She stiffened slightly in his arms. "You can spin what I did all you want, but I killed Connolly in cold blood."

"He was threatening people you care about—"

"He threatened _you_. That's when I pulled the trigger. He didn't have the power over you that he had over everyone else, you weren't in any immediate danger, not like…" She trailed off with a shudder; Red wondered whether she she saw him with Yaabari's gun to the back of his skull or flat on his back, bleeding out in the street. "I shot him anyway."

"I… Thank you."

"You—You're thanking me?"

"Perhaps I wasn't in immediate danger, but Tom Connolly had the potential to be every bit as dangerous to me as Yaabari was, even if he prefers not to get his hands dirty. That anonymous sniper could attest to that, if we had any idea who he was. You might very well have saved my life. Again."

"But we wouldn't be in this mess—"

" _Lizzy_. What were you supposed to do, turn yourself in and let the Cabal make you their scapegoat?" "Listen to me—you did what you needed to do in that moment. And if even one of the reasons you chose to do it was to protect me? Believe me, I am—" he took a deep, shaky breath— "forever grateful. Even if it complicated things for now."

Lizzy clenched her jaw and swallowed, visibly; her eyes welled up with unshed tears before she closed them and when she pressed her lips to his again, she kissed him with a fierceness that called to the part of his battered soul that had spent decades protecting her.

Red pulled back reluctantly. "We really should sleep."

"I know. Damn it, I wish…" She trailed off.

"So do I," he said, and squeezed her hand.

He wished so many things.

He wished they could've been dealt a different hand in life. He wished they had more time to be the ordinary couple they portrayed themselves to be. He wished this thing between them could be more than temporary.

They drifted off to sleep together, her fingers entwined with his.


	5. Chapter 3c

"Red. Red. _Raymond_."

Red woke with a jolt to find Lizzy's face mere inches away from his own and her hand gripping his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he said; his speech was still sleep-slurred, but his mind was already working swiftly to assess potential dangers. "Did something happe—"

Lizzy laid a finger over his lips, cutting him off. Her mouth quirked at the concerned look on his face and she slid her finger away, closing the minute distance between them to give him a quick peck of a kiss.

A smile spread slowly across Red's lips, a smile which Lizzy returned without hesitation.

His breath caught in his chest. She looked almost… smitten. If Michael from the front desk had caught her looking at him with this sort of fondness so plain on her face, Red understood why he'd felt the need to say what he had the night before.

Red let out a wistful sigh. If only he could see Lizzy's face light up like this every morning. If only they had reached this point in their relationship under better, less temporary circumstances. If only…

(Wishful thinking had a certain cruelty to it, didn't it?)

"I'm sorry I startled you," she whispered, a little mischievous, a little amused. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Did I wake you?"

"No," she said, with a knowing, playful expression, like she knew something he didn't. It tickled at Red's curiosity.

"What was I saying?" he asked.

"My name." She took a moment to examine his face, the heat in her gaze making Red all the more aware of how closely they were pressed together. "You must have been having a… nice dream."

"Oh, was I?" He raised a hand to brush the sleep-tousled hair from her face. The brassy blonde waves suited Lizzy, even if he did miss her natural color. "You seem more chipper today. I'm glad. A full night sleep can do you a world of good in this life."

"Sleep. Right. It's definitely just the sleep." She traced a curious finger along the edge of his sideburn and up to his temple, following the progress of it with her eyes all the while. Eventually, she made her way down again, along his jaw, and ran her thumb slowly over his lips.

Red pressed a kiss to the pad of her thumb, watching as her pupils dilated; Lizzy leaned forward until he could feel the warmth of her breath and the barest hint of the movement of her lips against his as she spoke.

"How soon do we have to be out of here?" she whispered.

He blinked, unsure of the answer, unsure of anything but the hot pressure of Lizzy's thigh hitched between his own, of the blood rushing in his veins, pounding in his ears, throbbing in… other places. It was all he could do to restrain himself from rubbing himself against her.

"Let me check my watch," Red said, voice rough and strained with his growing arousal. He twisted away to scrabble around on the nightstand for his wristwatch, all the while acutely aware of Lizzy's hand between his hip and the mattress, half pressing into the waistband of his boxers and half under the hem of his undershirt.

"We're probably safe for another half hour, hour tops." He dropped his watch onto the nightstand and rolled back, groaning when she brushed the tip of him lightly through his boxers, his hips arching of their own volition to push himself closer to the warmth of her touch.

"Is this OK?" she asked; Red could only nod. She slipped her hand underneath the fabric and closed it around his cock. Teasing her way along the swollen ridge, she drew her thumb over the head, and used the liquid beading at the tip to ease her movements on his heated skin.

"Christ, Lizzy," he said. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, pressing his lips against the skin there as her fingers continued to move over his length. He meandered his way under her jaw and up her neck, pausing to take her earlobe between his teeth; Lizzy moaned his name, her voice reverberating low in her throat and chest.

She worked her other hand between their trembling, panting bodies to cup his balls. He rested his forehead against hers, chest heaving, as every squeeze and gentle tug sent him thrusting more desperately into her hand.

"Lizzy," he gasped, "I'm going to—"

"Shh, that's the idea."

He huffed a breathless laugh as she leaned up to chase a bead of sweat down his brow and cheek with her lips. She reached his mouth just as he reached his peak, swallowed his guttural moan as he spilled, hot and fierce and heady, over her fist.

Lizzy continued to kiss him leisurely, lingering longer as her rhythm faltered and she slowed her stroking. Red collapsed onto his back, struggling to catch his breathe.

Good God. Lizzy… Lizzy was _glorious_. What an honor it was to be putty in her hands, to be privy to this personal side of such a gorgeous, tenacious woman.

She was electrifying, invigorating… He couldn't remember the last time he felt as alive as he did in her arms.

She plucked some tissues from the box on her nightstand and made short work of cleaning him and herself while he lay boneless, before she tucked him back into his boxers and rolled out of bed. She scooped up the rest of her clothes from where she left them the night before.

"Hey, hang on." Red pushed himself up on his forearms. "We're not out of time yet."

She came to stand over him on his side of the bed and laid her hand on his cheek, stroking her thumb over the slight rasp of stubble on his jaw. "No?" she asked, looking down at him with one eyebrow raised in barely contained amusement.

"Oh, no. Definitely not. Besides, I believe in reciprocity. What kind of man would I be if I didn't?" He leaned up and reached for her, cradled the back of her head in one hand, waiting until she dipped down low enough for him to move that final inch to kiss her, thorough and searching. She braced herself with a knee on the mattress, half-crawling back onto the bed to get closer to him.

Without warning, Red rolled them over so that Lizzy was flat on the comforter. He could feel her muffled squeal as much as he heard it, when she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed their chests flush together.

Red's hand travelled down her body as they kissed, ghosting over dips and curves, to find its way between her legs. She didn't give him much time to explore once he reached his destination, just pulled his hand tight against her and rocked up into the heel of his palm with a low moan. Her underwear was drenched through, easy to push aside so that he could slip a finger into her wet heat; she gasped as he added a second finger and twisted them just so, putting pressure on the textured patch of tissue there with every flex and stroke.

Lizzy rolled her hips, rocking her pelvis to find the best angle against his questing fingers and his thumb, which slid slickly over and around her clit. She grasped the back of his neck, dragging him in for another drugging kiss.

"I'd really love to have you inside me," she said, when she broke the kiss. "But we shouldn't, should we?"

She was right, of course. They'd taken a risk the other night in the shipping container. A risk they couldn't afford to take whenever the mood struck them. They could buy something, of course, but buying something made this real. Recurring. Planned. Not just something they did in the heat of the moment.

Red wondered how long they could walk that line of denial before it caught up to them.

"Not this time," he growled, and gave her one last searching, searing kiss before he crawled off the bed and dropped to his knees on the plushly carpeted floor.

She giggled as he pulled her to the edge of the bed, a giggle that swiftly died in her throat when he pressed his mouth against her, nuzzling her through the sodden fabric still covering her. He rested his head against her inner thigh and breathed her in, closing his eyes so he could savor her intoxicating scent without distraction.

"Mmm," he said, "I could stay like this for hours."

Lizzy scratched her fingernails lightly over his scalp; he opened one eye to find her staring at him down the length of her body with a fond expression and a raised eyebrow. "Better not," she said.

Chuckling, Red searched around for the remote control and flicked on the television, surfing through the channels until he found a local station airing the morning news; he tossed the remote into the bed linen carelessly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and slid them down, taking care to caress her soft skin as he pulled them off. With a gentle touch, he drew her legs apart, utterly incapable of looking away. His chest clenched; there was nothing on earth he wanted more at that moment than to taste her.

The scent of her arousal was so much stronger now—his imagination could hardly do her justice, he was sure of it. She shivered under the weight of his gaze, the ticklish brush of his breath on her sensitive, sensitized skin. Slowly, teasingly, he lowered his head and put his mouth on her.

It wasn't long at all before Red lost track of time, savoring every gasp and cry of Lizzy's pleasure, chasing every murmur and sigh of her satisfaction. She clenched rhythmically around his slick fingers as she dug her own fingers into his scalp. The prick of her nails made his cock twitch in interest, and he moaned, muffled against her skin as her orgasm crashed over her in waves.

Gradually, the sound of Lizzy's labored breathing gave way to the quiet drone of the television.

 _"The latest sighting of Elizabeth Keen and Raymond Reddington places the fugitives just outside of Ohio…"_

"That's our cue," Red said, his voice still rough and deep; Lizzy gave a lazy nod and struggled to convince her sluggish, sated body to move so she could help him gather their things and leave.


	6. Chapter 4

Dembe was out of the woods. He lost a lot of blood, but there was nothing damaged that could not be fixed, thank goodness. As touch and go as it was for him for a while there, he was going to pull through.

Red found himself dozing on and off in a chair at his bedside, his mind split between his worry over Dembe and his concern for Lizzy, who had left with Kate some hours ago for a bit of much needed respite.

It was strange to think about after so many weeks with only one another to lean on or even to interact with, that he and Lizzy could have a life outside each other again. Almost like a trial run for when she was free. Red had grown so accustomed to spending time with her. He tried not to let the thought of this chapter of their lives coming to an end eat at him, and mostly succeeded. While he was awake, at least.

A hand on his shoulder roused him from his fitful nap and he looked up to find Lizzy herself standing over him. It was a testament to his exhaustion that she somehow managed to reach his side before he registered her presence at all. He blinked to clear his drowsy eyes, taking the few moments while she waited for him to wake up fully to study her.

Lizzy must've freshened herself up since he last saw her, scrubbed clean the evidence of her fake death for Kate's photographs. She hadn't bothered to put on any makeup, not even the small amounts she kept on hand while they were on the run. She looked tired and drawn, but there was a brightness to her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time.

As far as Red was concerned, she'd never been more beautiful.

"Hey," she whispered. "How's Dembe?"

"The doctor said he was in pretty rough shape, but he's improving. He's gonna make it."

"Thank god." Lizzy walked over to Dembe's side, watching his sleeping face, peaceful now that he was out of surgery and the painkillers had worked their magic. She rested her hand gently on his forearm.

"If he hadn't shown up when he did…" She trailed off, tension clear in her furrowed brow and the tightness around her mouth. She shook herself visibly after a few long moments, no doubt lost in her memories of the trauma they all went through at Solomon's hand. Meeting Red's eye, she asked, "How're you holding up?"

"Well, sleeping in a chair didn't do me any favors. Other than that, pretty good. How about you? I hope Mr. Kaplan is spoiling you rotten now that we finally have access to _actual_ resources again."

Lizzy let out a quiet laugh. "Oh, you got her number, that's for sure. You should've seen her earlier, trying to make sure I've been eating well. As if you of all people would let us go hungry."

Red chuckled softly, imagining Kate fretting over Lizzy's diet in a very 'Kate' sort of way, with her concern barely hidden beneath her practicality. "You're right, she should know me well enough to know that food is in my top five priorities at any given moment. The top two, even." Lizzy raised a sardonic brow. "All right, maybe it's my first priority most of the time."

"I think she's only been fussing over me so much because she couldn't drag you away from Dembe long enough. Now that he's stable, she sent me with strict orders to take you home."

"Oh, did she?"

"Mmhmm. She gave me permission to use force if I had to," she said, and offered him a wry smile that he returned instinctively, lips quirking up without any real effort. He'd enjoy it far too much for what she said to be a genuine threat, and they both knew it.

"Come on, we should get going. It's late. Or early. I'm not really sure anymore."

Lizzy held out her hand, but instead of grabbing hold and letting her help him up, Red turned it over and pressed a kiss to her palm, held her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes for a few moments. He felt her shift around in the cramped, makeshift hospital room and crouch down in front of him, resting her free hand on his knee.

Lazily, he opened his eyes again; she was watching him with her head tilted to the side. She'd been doing that more often, mirroring his own body language. Red wondered if she noticed, or if it was wholly unconscious on her part.

Suddenly, Lizzy leaned forward and kissed him, quick and chaste, on the lips; then she stood and tugged him to his feet. He trailed behind her as they left the building, more aware of the feeling of her hand in his—so warm and real and _alive_ —than the path she was leading him down.

The ride to the safe house was brief.

Once they were inside, Lizzy crowded close to Red while he closed and locked the door, and wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as he turned around. He leaned back against the door, letting it support most of their weight as they held each other, pressed together everywhere they could be. They breathed together, in and out, deep and soothing.

Home. Kate sent Lizzy to take him home. She might not be able recognize the significance of that word choice, but Lizzy certainly could.

Thoughts of her exoneration could be pushed aside for now. Tonight, celebrating the simple joys of being alive took precedence. It was clear from the spark of their skin, in their lingering touch that they would be together tonight. It wasn't even a question, really.

Red's heart pounded in his ears. It seemed a lifetime ago when they were last alone together, though it had barely even been a day. They'd escaped far, far too many close calls due to the bounty on her head by only the skin of their teeth, but Lizzy was still here, solid and vital in his arms. He brushed her hair back from her face and rested his forehead against hers, with his fingers tangled in her wavy blonde locks.

Lizzy kissed him softly once, twice, three times before she finally pulled away with a shuddering breath; her fingers were cool against his cheek.

"Why don't you go clean up? The shower's _amazing_. And I think it helps to wash away anything that could remind you of… you know." She gestured vaguely, clearly thinking of Solomon again, or her ordeal with the photographs. Red nodded; she had a point, even if he was loath to leave her side.

Lizzy had obviously tried to make herself comfortable as best as she could in their new hideaway before she set out to bring him there. She even somehow managed to rescue the mugs from that place they stayed in Ohio and set them out next to the coffee pot on the desk.

He could see evidence of Kate's handiwork as well all around the small room, where she picked up the slack for things Dembe would usually take care of. Red's go bag was on top of the dresser, and there were not one but two suits hung in the closet, with an extra hat on the shelf above them. One of the two beds was made up only with blankets. (Lizzy had already gravitated towards that one, although she did make a show of stashing her go bag under the other bed, for appearances' sake.)

Red gathered a few things from his bag and retreated to the bathroom. Stepping under the shower spray, he let the water soothe his aching muscles, breathed deeply to fill his lungs with the humid air. Lizzy was right—the shower at his friend's theatre had left much to be desired, but this one… Well, sometimes small luxuries could make a world of difference.

He toweled himself off only well enough to pull on his boxers and trousers, which he left unfastened, slung low on his hips. When he pulled open the medicine cabinet, his heart shuddered to a halt, before revving back up again, thundering in his ears even louder than before. Next to the fresh tube of his favorite toothpaste sat a box of condoms, still in its wrapping. Such an innocent thing, but in this context it sent him reeling.

Kate liked to prepare for every eventuality. It wasn't as if she knew for certain. She couldn't possibly.

Could she?

Or was the box Lizzy's doing? Surely she would've gotten hold of them herself if that were the case and wouldn't have _asked_ Kate…

He shook his head and loosened his iron grip on the edge of the sink. Whoever was responsible for them didn't matter. He tore open the wrapping, snatched up a foil packet and stuffed it into his pocket. If it was Kate, let her wonder.

Lizzy was lounging on their bed, in her boyshorts and another undershirt she pilfered from his bag. She looked up when he opened the door and bit her lip, raking her gaze over him from head to toe.

Red didn't think he could ever get used to this, to the delicious image of Lizzy striding across a room in her underthings with heat and purpose in her eyes. When she got close enough, he rested his hands on her waist, her skin soft and smooth where fabric didn't cover her. She leaned in and licked his neck, the hollow of his throat, chasing the droplets of water he hadn't bothered to try to dry. He shivered at the sensation, and coaxed her head up so he could capture her mouth, kissing her deeply.

She grabbed his ass, playful enough to surprise a muffled chuckle out of him, and he felt her lips curve into a smile against his own. He growled low in his throat and began to back her up until her thighs hit the edge of the mattress and she sat. He barely had time to slide her borrowed tank top off of her body before she pulled him down along with her.

Red traced a trail of kisses down Lizzy's body, along her abdomen—lingering, worshipping, memorizing—everywhere Solomon's knife had touched. The bastard would have flayed her alive, right in front of him.

"Raymond?" He stopped moving at the sound of his name, rested his head on Lizzy's belly, his ear pressed into the warm, smooth, unmarred flesh. He thought of her fantasy, of the things he would offer her in an instant if only he could. She looked down at him curiously, fingers rubbing tiny, encouraging circles into the back of his head.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

He offered her a melancholy little smile.

"Come here," she beckoned, and when he crawled up her body, she took his face between her hands and drew him close, angling her head so she could kiss him, deep and searching. She shifted and pushed against his chest, rolled them over on the bed so she could straddle his thighs.

She took her sweet time tonight, kissing her way across his heated skin, drawing her teeth over his nipple, harder again when he groaned in pleasure. She sucked at his neck, raising a mark low on the side of it.

Well. He'd definitely be wearing ties for the next few days, then.

Wrapping her fingers around his waistband, Lizzy tugged at his trousers and boxers; Red retrieved the packet from his pocket before she could finish pulling them down and off his legs.

She settled against him again, the heat and pressure shocking in its intensity despite the thin layer of clothing still between them. He slid a hand under her waistband and pulled her close, reveling in the friction of her body rubbing along his hardness, in the soft sounds of desire she made with every roll of her hips.

She tore her lips away from his to nibble at his earlobe, to whisper a breathless question into his ear. "Now?"

Red nodded, and she took the opportunity to switch their positions, to lie on her back against the pillows; she made quick work of her boyshorts while he tore open the condom and rolled it down his length. He moved to cover her body with his again, bracing himself on a forearm and reaching between them to tease at her wet heat.

Lizzy took him into her hand and guided him to her entrance; she arched into him as he pressed down, and wrapped her legs around his hips. They rocked together absently, almost an afterthought, a reflex, so focused they were on holding each other close, feeling connected in any way they could grasp.

Eventually, they reached their peaks. He savored the sensation of being enveloped by her clenching heat as he climaxed, pressing closer rather than pulling away since for once he didn't need to withdraw so hastily.

It was the first night since they went on the lam that it felt like things might really work out. That they weren't completely on their own. They were safe, protected. They could sleep easy tonight, wrapped around each other like limpets, pretending if only for a few hours that it could last forever.


	7. Chapter 5

Red shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he scanned the deserted streets outside the courthouse. The atmosphere that night walked a fine line between peaceful and unsettling, with the street lamps bathing everything in a warm yellow light, making the world feel slightly dreamlike, surreal.

Lizzy should be released soon. At any moment now, she'd be there, free and clear like they hoped for. Like he planned.

Only not like he planned at all.

If either of them was going to be captured by the feds, by the Cabal, it should have been him. It should've been him in that box, slowly suffocating while they tried to force the FBI's hand. But then again they probably wouldn't have tried to do that to him. Red had bargaining chips, connections. Where he had leverage, Lizzy _was_ the leverage—her life, her freedom, her reputation.

Would she be all right after this? Certainly not _yet_ —the trauma she endured in custody could have far-reaching and long-lasting consequences on her psyche, the likes of which he was all too familiar with.

The impact that her nightmare of an incarceration would have on her remained to be seen. The Cabal was more than happy to use her as a scapegoat, to pin their worst schemes and crimes on her. (He was, unfortunately, familiar with that, too.)

Red hadn't felt nerves like this since high school, waiting to see his date in her prom dress for the first time; the context here, tonight, was so very, very different.

He almost lost her. Again. When she was in the Post Office in that cursed box, utterly beyond his reach, he felt completely powerless, helpless. He hadn't felt so helpless in decades. Maybe since the day his mother died—the first time in his life that he understood how fragile and defenseless even the strongest person could truly be.

There. There she was, standing across the street, looking scared and hopeful as she scanned the abandoned streets, searching for someone.

Searching for him.

She seemed so small in front of the big building, at the foot of so many concrete stairs, dwarfed by the imposing structure. He wanted to call out but couldn't; even if his vocal cords would cooperate, he couldn't afford to draw anyone else's attention to himself.

As Lizzy's head started to turn in his direction, Red's heart began to thud almost painfully in his chest; he could feel his palms start to sweat and then…

And then a bus drove by, cutting off her line of sight. Red appreciated the sense of drama in the moment, even if suspense had curled itself around his rib cage and started to _squeeze_.

Lizzy's marvelous, marveling smile when she saw him took his breath away. He could see her fighting back the emotions of the moment, fighting back tears of joy and relief; he was damn close to tears himself, but when she strode across the road and threw her arms around his neck, he knew nothing but the feeling of her body against his, her hair under his fingertips.

They held each other there on side of that empty street, safe to forget the world for a few stolen moments with Dembe's watchful, protective presence standing guard.

When Lizzy pulled back, she studied Red's face, seeming to drink in every last line and feature, desperate to convince herself that he was real—and really there.

"I thought I was a dead woman," she said, her voice low and breathy as she spoke faster and faster. "I thought… I thought you wouldn't be able to convince them, that they might hurt you, too. I thought I'd never…" She trailed off, staring at her hand on his chest over his pounding heart. He doubted she could feel it through the thick layers of fabric, but it was nice to think about. That she might be trying.

Then her gaze lifted, only far enough to land on his mouth, and he knew what she was thinking, what she wanted. But they couldn't. Not here. Not out in public where anyone might see the newly exonerated FBI agent in the warm embrace of the very same criminal she went on the run with.

They hadn't kissed yet in front of Dembe, either—while he was conscious, at least—but Red saw his curious looks all the same. There was something in their interactions that skipped right past platonic, an intensity and an intimacy he knew his friend wouldn't be able to miss. Still, it didn't mean they had to confirm his suspicions. Especially now.

Lizzy pulled him off the car, wrapped her fingers around his upturned lapel and tugged, insistent. "Come on. Let's go." The 'home' was implied, left unsaid. At least he liked to think so. No matter how much bittersweet pain it caused this time.

There was a difficult conversation weighing heavily in the air between them, a conversation they should've had that night. But they didn't. It was so much easier to simply feel, to bury the lingering questions and decisions in the back of their minds to deal with another time.

Their situation grew more complex by the day, and the longer they waited to have that conversation, the harder it would be. They couldn't avoid it forever. Not without risking… negative consequences.

As soon as they made it back to his Bethesda apartment and bid Dembe good night, Lizzy led Red straight to his own bedroom, familiar as she was with the layout from her snooping excursions. The door didn't even have time to click shut before she reached for him.

Off went his hat, stashed hastily on a dresser. Off went his coat, shoved off his shoulders while Lizzy kissed him, and it dropped to the floor with a thump loud enough to make him wonder in the back of his mind whether Dembe would've heard it.

Red could hardly unbutton his vest fast enough to keep up with Lizzy's fingers tugging at his tie, at the buttons on his shirt. He was bare down to his trousers before she slowed down enough for him to reach for her clothes.

Her jacket, not nearly warm enough for the cold weather outside, was the first to go, followed by her thin shirt, which she helped him pull off over her head without unbuttoning it. She walked him backwards towards the bed while they stripped off her clothes, and gave him a nice solid shove back onto the mattress. He caught himself on his elbows and watched her as she fumbled with her pants, struggled to undo the button and zipper on the skinny jeans with shaking fingers.

"Fuck," she said, and he reached out, taking her hands in his.

"Hey, it's OK. No need to rush," he said, pressing a kiss to her palm.

She cupped his face with her hand, running her thumb back and forth over his cheek, smooth despite the late hour because he put his electric razor to good use during the ride to the courthouse. "God, I missed you."

Red skimmed his hands along the skin above Lizzy's waistband, slipping his fingers underneath to pop open the button and slowly draw her zipper down. Then he set his sights on her bra, raising goosebumps as he caressed his way up her flank and reached around behind her to undo the tiny metal clasps.

He steadied her while she bent to pull off her heavy leather boots, gripping his hand tightly with one hand while tugging the boot off with the other. Two more thuds he prayed Dembe wouldn't hear. Her jeans followed soon after.

Once Lizzy was on both feet again, Red bent forward to take a nipple into his mouth; she let out a low moan, holding his head to her chest as his tongue moved against her skin. He pulled her slowly by the hips until she stood completely between his spread thighs, holding her close with one hand while he let the other explore her body.

She moved with his ministrations, following his touch, even leading him where she wanted him most. And where she wanted him? Good Lord. She was _drenched_. He could feel it through her underwear, more so once he slid his fingers underneath the fabric, stroking her slick skin. His cock throbbed with his pounding heartbeat, with every moan and cry that escaped her lips.

She pushed insistently at his shoulders, pushed him far enough away that he couldn't reach her chest, and immediately focused her attention on ridding him of his trousers and boxers. He helped as best as he could, and watched as she slid her own underwear down her legs and clamored into his lap.

Lizzy positioned Red against her and sank down onto him with an indulgent groan. He studied her, enthralled, as she rode him, memorizing the arch of her back, every desperate move of her hips. Her pace would've been almost punishing if she wasn't so slick around him. The sensation of her gripping him deep inside was dizzying, the familiar heat and pressure pulling him inexorably closer to the end.

"Lizzy," he said, near to panting, and tightened his hands around her hips, slowing her movements until they sat as still as their quivering bodies would allow and the urgent need to climax receded.

"It's OK," she said, nuzzling his neck, holding their torsos flush together. He felt the trembling of restraint in her thigh muscles, of her legs wrapped around him. "This time, please, just…"

Red swallowed hard. It wouldn't matter now, would it? Not with the glow that grew with every passing day, the way her body was softening, her curves filling out. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine just for a moment that the life growing inside her womb was not the product of the night she spent with Tom Keen before they ran, and what that might mean. What might it mean to acknowledge that he and Lizzy hadn't exactly been safe and responsible since that night on the container ship?

More than either of them could bear to think about tonight, surely. Denial could be a many-layered thing.

"All right. All right, yes."

Red felt Lizzy's lips curve into smile against his neck, before she pulled back to hold his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes. Deliberately, she rocked her hips, tightening her muscles around him over and over with every thrust, and when he started to spend himself, she let out a gasp that was almost a sob.

Red snaked a hand down between them to bring her over the edge with him, his fingers moving easily over her hot, wet skin. Lizzy collapsed against him, a boneless, breathless collection of clinging limbs and grasping fingers. He held her to his chest, his arms wrapped around her sweat-slick body, neither of them quite able to breathe deeply enough to satisfy their burning lungs.

Red's heart seized with regret.

This… this couldn't continue. This was _dangerous_. Every time they did this, met like this, from here on out, they took her life into their hands.

People would look at them too closely now, with the extreme attention surrounding her exoneration. People who would examine their relationship inside and out, who would jump to all sorts of conclusions. And the right conclusions just happened to be the most dangerous ones.

They couldn't afford that kind of scrutiny from the wrong people. Hell, they couldn't afford that kind of scrutiny even from the right people, who might jump to those same conclusions. That might be even worse.

Red sighed. In the morning, things would change. Things had to change.

But tonight?

Tonight nothing could eclipse the warmth of _this_ woman in a cool set of sheets.

Just this once. One more time.


End file.
